


one song at a time (love is a mixtape)

by pen_light



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Episode: s12e19 The Future, Episode: s12e19 The Future - Mixtape Scene, M/M, Post-Episode: s12e19 The Future, fluff?, not really - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-16 19:58:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14817911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pen_light/pseuds/pen_light
Summary: The night continued as such, welcoming the day with the serenade of Led Zeppelin. Sam fell asleep easily, the light tunes turning into white noise. In the hallway, the lights from Dean’s room still peeked out from under the door.alt; the mixtape’s origin story as told by Sam’s perspective





	one song at a time (love is a mixtape)

**Author's Note:**

> hello! this is for my deancas writing challenge prompt for may! 
> 
> it is a little rushed and not so edited bc i'm working around hectic weeks rn. so sorry for choppiness/mistakes
> 
> either way, hope you like it.

Sam distinctly remembers the moment when Dean stood up from a late night research session to tread the stairs straight to his room. The door closed with a loud thump, and if Sam had super hearing, he was certain he’d have heard the turn of a lock. The younger hadn’t given the action much attention, his chosen ignorance based on the fact that he had just been heavily contemplating locking himself in his own room to catch up on some much needed sleep. The brothers were beyond stretched thin. From Amara to Lucifer wearing Castiel, they were exhausting all their skills, energies, and resources—which simply resulted in efforts that practically amassed to nothing. 

 

Dean, especially, was visibly torn, more so than ever. And the younger couldn’t blame him. The entire Mark of Cain business had ripped the older apart internally. Sam and Castiel were similarly shredded during their campaign to save Dean as well. Victory seemed to always bring a worse foe for the trio. For now, they were dealing with an entity old as the universe all while trying to save their friend from Satan.

 

Sam sighed and stood up, padding his way to the kitchen to fetch a quick cup of tea. After the quick brewing, the tall hunter walked around the table, not even bothering to put the materials away and made his way to his bedroom. A little sleep wouldn’t hurt, would it? Sam reasoned.

 

There was a faint sound traveling down the hallway. Sam paused with a frown, his grip tightening around the handle of his mug. Carefully, he continued his trajectory, on edge. The noises slowly fell together, creating an incredibly familiar melody. Sam slowly let go of his stance as he curiously approached the source of the Zeppelin song. It wasn’t anything too strange, for Dean often lulled himself to sleep with his beloved classic tracks. Some days, headphones were used, and on other days, Dean tuned into his speakers. Sam supposed it was a speaker night. 

 

Sighing with a smile of relief, Sam passed by Dean’s door quickly to make it to his own room. He had almost walked in when the younger made one final stop and turned, his brows furrowing even more as he noticed the lights on in his brother’s room. 

 

Dean wasn’t asleep. But if he wasn’t asleep, Sam wondered, what was he doing? Another moment passed by, and the younger shook his head. He probably didn’t want to know. 

 

The night continued as such, welcoming the day with the serenade of Led Zeppelin. Sam fell asleep easily, the light tunes turning into white noise. In the hallway, the lights from Dean’s room still peeked out from under the door. 

 

 

 

Things were turning up, slightly. Amara was still on the loose and Chuck (God) was dying. But, Castiel was back and Lucifer was gone, and the brothers each felt a part of the weight on them lift off. They were three again, and as three, they were just better. 

 

In the midst of their scramble for ideas to match Amara’s power, Dean took Castiel out on a “beer run”. Sam, familiar to said “beer runs” nodded them off, declining the offer to join. Castiel was back and there was practically no privacy in the bunker. The two of them probably needed to talk things out as they typically did on their own. 

 

Before leaving the bunker, Dean had turned on his heels to dash to his room. Castiel, confused, shrugged and continued towards the Impala. Sam watched curiously as his brother ran back, a little more antsy than he was a moment prior. There was something small and rectangular in his hand. The younger cocked a brow. 

 

“Forgot my wallet,” Dean had muttered, brushing off the look. Before Sam could say anything else, the older was already on his way. 

 

Sam squinted suspiciously. Dean had been fiddling with his wallet when he offered the beer run to Sam. Plus, Dean’s wallet was generally more square and wider than whatever was in his brother’s hand. If Sam wasn’t wrong, then he was pretty sure he had caught a glimpse of rolled up film and messy, block, uppercase handwriting. The younger shook his head, recalibrating himself into the moment. 

 

Whatever it was, it probably didn’t matter. And with that, the younger went back to work. Dean and Castiel returned to the bunker within the next hour, beer in their hands. Sam didn’t bother to read their body language. 

 

They probably figured it out. Whatever _it_ was. 

 

 

 

The brothers just couldn’t catch a break. With the impending nephilim, things were getting real dicey among their own family. Castiel was astray, collaborating with Crowley, then angels, disappearing and reappearing on his own. Sam let go of these moments. With his own experience with Lucifer, the younger hunter was careful to give the angel some space and freedom to figure reality out again. 

 

Dean, on the other hand, was more and more pressed. Rightfully so, perhaps. Castiel’s constantly near death experiences and disappearances were incredibly worrying. With Dean’s nature, Sam knew not to say anything about Dean’s worries either. 

 

And so, he just watched as the two went about each other, each gently pissed off. 

 

One instance, Castiel was standing in the center of the bunker. His head was hung and his hands were playing around with what looked like a cassette. 

 

“Cas?” Sam had asked, walking up to the angel. The latter and Dean were tense again, this time about Castiel’s visit to Heaven regarding Kelly. “You okay?”

 

The angel sighed, dropping his hand. “Yes,” he answered, not convinced. “I need to talk to Dean.” 

 

Sam blinked and nodded. Neither of them moved. Sam made a face and Castiel shook his head. 

 

“I will talk to him later,” he elaborated, going back to playing around with tape in his hand.

 

“What’s that?” Sam asked. 

 

Castiel dropped his hand. “A mixtape Dean gave me. I’ve been meaning to return it.” 

 

Sam paused. Just as he was about to correct Castiel’s notion of returning a gifted mixtape, the angel left, walking straight towards Dean’s room. 

 

Sam gave himself another moment of evaluation before shrugging and walking off into the kitchen. 

 

The two of them would figure it out. They always did. 

 

 

 

The night the boys returned from their encounter with Kelly and Dagon, there was nothing but silence between them. Dean headed straight for his beer. Sam didn’t dare comment on it. His mind was reeling too much for him to think straight. A run in with his brother was the last thing he needed. 

 

Walking to his own room, Sam passed Dean’s room without a second thought. But he paused, right outside his own, the image of the mixtape in Castiel’s hand coming to his awareness. Sam hadn’t been able to see the label on the mixtape, but, from what the angel had said, it was Dean’s creation. 

 

Sam crept into his brother’s room. Curiosity regarding his brother’s late night, lighted Zeppelin sessions and the mixtape sparked, fueling the investigation even more. 

 

Sam wasn’t sure what he was expecting as he peered into the boxes and piles of records and tapes for any clues at all. But what he found was certainly not it. 

 

Among the messy, worn out cassettes, the records, and the CDs, was a group of brand new tapes neatly kept together with two rubber bands. Even the placement in comparison to the haphazard tossed nature of the others was strikingly different. The bunch was placed carefully on a ledge. 

 

Sam leaned over to get a better look, eventually sighing as his almost fell over and just reaching out for the tapes. 

 

The first tape in the front was labeled, _DEANS TOP 13 ZEPP TRAXX 2_. Behind it was, _DEANS TOP 13 ZEPP TRAXX 3,_ which was then followed by 4 and 5. Sam smiled and shook his head. With the missing first one, that added to a total of 65 “top” Zeppelin songs. Leave to Dean to narrow his favorites down to a measly 65, Sam thought. He looked around for the first tape as he carefully placed the bunch back in place. 

 

Sam’s eyes widened. The first one… was that the one Castiel had? Head snapping to the ledge, Sam reevaluated the language of the care placed into the tapes again. 

 

The first one was most definitely with Castiel. And the younger smiled sadly, not sure whether he was to be happy or even more heartbroken, given the most recent events. 

 

He made his way to his room.

 

About 30 minutes later (Sam was just laying down, too frazzled to fall asleep properly), Dean’s footsteps trudged down the hallway. The younger listened, listing between wake and sleep. The door closed. After a few minutes, Sam cracked his eyes and peeked past his own half-open door, noticing the fall of a few rays of light from next door. Dean was still awake. Typical. 

 

The younger fell back to bed, returning to the limbo-like sleep. The tense silence echoed through the bunker, becoming just a little more apparent right at that moment. 

 

There was a click from Dean’s room, followed by the scrape of a chair. A second later, sound waves dancing along to AC/DC’s “Ride On” bounced into Sam’s room. 

 

Sam smiled knowingly. Converting the tunes to white noise, he fell asleep. The night continued to echo the guitar riffs of AC/DC, welcoming day with a serenade. 

 

When Castiel returned, there would be another tape waiting for him. Sam was certain.

 

**Author's Note:**

> :D
> 
> visit me on tumblr! epeolatrii.tumblr.com.


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